; habromania

izaya orihara; cooler than me

"You got your high brow, shoes on your feet, and you wear them around like it ain't sh-"

Izaya Orihara knew she didn't care as soon as he saw her. It didn't even take one conversation for him to know, for her entire being radiated an arrogance that challenged even his own. Needless to say, he was intrigued.

"But you don't know the way that you look when your steps make that much noise... shh!"

She was clearly well known around town; he could see it in the dirty looks she got from bystanders. The nameless girl wore an unnecessary amount of confidence, one that almost made her look ridiculous.

"I've got you all figured out. You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen"

It had been about two weeks, and being the stalke- *cough* information broker he was, he knew it all. She was (F/N) (L/N). That was almost all that needed to be said, she was one of a kind. Izaya vaguely suspected that she acted this way for the attention. She thrived off of it. Izaya wanted to crush it. What would she do if she lost everything?

"Behind your makeup nobody knows who you even are. Who do you think that you are?"

He pondered his situation, the itch to ruin her fragile existence turning into a burning ache. Who was she really? For once, Izaya didn't know. Did she even know who she was? (F/N) had been playing such an intense façade for so long, nobody Izaya could contact knew any different.

"If I could write you a song to make you fall in love I would already have you up under my arm,"

His curiosity eventually urged him to meet her in person, so one day, after she left the cafe he knew she went to every Thursday for lunch, he approached her, his flirtatious, seductive act on point. With one look at him up and down, she brushed him aside, adjusting her designer shades. Izaya was genuinely shocked. So far, she had been the only person to not find him even mildly attractive. He was always able to make his victim swoon. Clearly, he needed a new method, for his usual tricks were not even remotely working.

"I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this."

"(Name)-channnn!"

Said female glanced at Izaya with disinterest. Why was this idiot still bothering her? He was trying to get her attention, that much was clear, but she was far too focused gaining everyone else's. Izaya had done everything to try and get in her head. He'd played the part of the flirtatious boy, the playboy, the sweet boy, the awkward boy, the playful boy, you name it, he had tried it. He'd even gone as far as to threaten her with his infamous switch-blade. She didn't care, nor did she mildly appreciate his desperate efforts.

"But you probably won't, you think you're cooler than me"

"Why don't you ever look at meee?"

He poked her cheek playfully,

"I'm Izaya Orihara! You have to have at least heard of me!"

The (h/c) haired girl payed him no heed, and continued walking in that overly confident manner of hers. His curiosity had rapidly transformed into determination and frustration. Everything he'd done had merely built her up. The girl let a small 'tch' escape her mouth, and walked faster, her shoes clicking with each step. She thought she was better than him. She thought she was cooler.

"You got designer shades just to hide your face, and you wear them around like you're cooler than me,"

He refused to show her his annoyance. Izaya Orihara was known for being the best and most informed human in Ikebukuro and Shinjuku. Who did she think she was?! In her classic stuck-up approach, she pushed her sunglasses further up onto her face, as if the crimson-eyed man trailing her was not worthy to see it.

"And you never say "Hey!" or remember my name. It's probably 'cause you think you're cooler than me."

At least a year had past, and the man called Izaya had made no progress on revealing the girl's true personality, let alone ruining her persona. Even Namie, his receptionist, had began to think he was losing his mind, occasionally making snarky remarks like,

"Don't you have better, more important things to do than stalking some girl?" On his bad days he'd respond by gritting his teeth, an impatient look painting his visage.

"You don't understand" He'd seethe.

And then he'd laugh.

After all this time, she would still not even address him when they crossed paths. Not to mention that every time he greeted her, she'd always ask for his name in confusion. He'd never give up, she was far too interesting... way different than any other humans he'd met. He'd crack her open. He had to. His pride wouldn't let him not.

A/N: OMG I'M SO PROUD OF THIS LOVLINESS!!! It's not exactly romance, but whatever. ITS IZAYA